The Music of The Storm
by Calimetaure
Summary: [REWRITE] ::GWxSM, AU:: Makoto and Quatre star in this version of Cinderella, just because I wanted to try out this pairing. Naturally it didn't work, as Trowa demanded to be included, and I couldn't leave Duo alone ...
1. Chapter One

**Begun:** A long time ago.  
**Ended:** A long time ago. This is just a rewrite.

**Disclaimer:** I hold no claim of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon or Shin Kidou Senki Gundam W. If I did the series' would have turned out far differently.  
**Warnings:** This is the AU to end all AUs. Except not really. It is AU for both series, however, as it takes place in a fairy-tale desert setting. Beware badly romanticized ancient Arabic tribal culture, worse names (I attempted to find actual Arabic names, but who knows how well that worked out), and lots of not-so-subtle shounen-ai hinting.

* * *

Makoto laughed gleefully, attempting a spin like her mother did when she danced. She succeeded two turns before getting caught in the pooling material of her gown and falling to the ground with an "oof!". Her nurse, always standing close by, swooped down and picked her up off the floor, cradling her and cooing. Makoto giggled, forgetting the slight shock she'd experienced. She didn't cry. Makoto hardly ever cried. 

"Na ... are mama and papa gonna be back?" she asked, blinking huge green eyes at her nurse.

"Of course, baby," the elderly woman replied, "They will surely hurry back to be with their little girl."

Makoto gave a childish grin and hugged her nurse. "Will mama be angry at me for bo'rring her dress?"

"Of course not, baby. You're precious to her; she will never be angry at you."

The domestic scene would have made a passer-by smile, but it was quickly disturbed by the angry shouting of a mob gathered around the outside of the building. The nurse gasped. She hid Makoto's face in her chest and herself against the wall so no one looking in could see her or the child. But she could see out – there were so many angry young men and women. Some had torches, some had rocks, others had swords. They had come for blood.

"Tensions ran too high," the old woman sighed sadly.

Makoto wiggled uncomfortably, "Wha's goin' on?" she demanded.

"Shh, young one, do not make noise," said the nurse in a hushed, worried voice. She paced the room, gathering a cloak to cover her charge with, "We're going to play a new game. We must both be very quiet and make it to the basement without a sound. No one must see us, or we will lose. If we win, we will get you some sweets. Fushichou can come too," she added quickly, placing the small toy bird into Makoto's little hands, "Do you understand?"

In truth, Makoto had no idea what was going on. But the idea of sweets was appealing and she liked games, and Fushichou was with her. She nodded anyway, closing her mouth and placing her hands over her lips to show that she wouldn't make a sound. Her nurse smiled at her and wrapped her in the blanket, trying to hide the cloth of her mistress' dress inside the drab material. Then she fled the room.

The screams got louder as they stole down the hall, accompanied now by breaking glass and the sound of flames eating through the wooden furniture and flammable cloth curtains. The nurse held Makoto closer still to her body and forced her legs to run faster. She had to get to the basement, she had to move before they were found. The guards were already moving to head off the attackers, but there were still screams of the injured and dying. There were just too many. The door leading to the dark basement had never looked so magical.

"We are nearly there, Makoto. We shall win," she whispered.

Makoto just nodded and hugged Fushichou tighter. She wanted to look around, but dared not. She wanted to talk, to cry even, she wanted to know if her mother and father would be there, waiting for her. But she flinched at the sound of flames and kept her mouth shut. The door shut firmly behind them, and she heard the click of a lock sliding into place. Her nurse continued to carry her into the depths of the basement, away from the light and into the pitch black that she hated so much. She started crying then, softly and with hardly a sound.

"I'm scared," she finally dared to whisper.

"So am I," agreed her nurse, "But we have won. We will be fine."

A new door opened. They were in a tiny room with a tiny window towards the ceiling. The nurse closed this door behind them too, keeping well out of the way of the ray of light and pressing them to the wall underneath the window. She hummed a soft lullaby, hoping to send her charge to sleep until they knew it was safe to emerge. When she thought it was safe again it was four hours later, and all sounds at all had ceased.

"They're all dead, then," the nurse predicted, "Or there would be police searching for survivors. We must flee this place."

* * *

"Hey ... kid ... Hey ... "

Makoto opened her eyes drowsily. Everything was blurry and smelled funny. She hid her face and tried to go back to sleep. The persistent hand shaking her shoulder would not let her that peace.

"C'mon! Kid! Wake up!" the young boy's voice said urgently.

Makoto opened her eyes again, groaning her annoyance. The boy hovering above her gave a short laugh. Only then did Makoto realize that her nurse was no longer holding her. She gasped and shot up from the ground, "Nana!"

"Is that the old woman?" the boy asked.

She didn't answer, instead looking around frantically. The boy sighed and grabbed her head to hold her still.

"Listen to me, girl. Is Nana the old woman who was with you?"

"Un ... " Makoto nodded shakily.

"Well she's dead." The little girl's eyes widened again, but the boy didn't allow her to speak. "I found you in the middle of the street. She was covering you from harm – I can only guess it means you're important. And since you're not from here, it means that you're one of _them_, which means it's not safe for you. So go that way," the boy pointed down a long alley that connected to many others, "Keep going straight. It'll lead you to people who will care about your life. Do you understand?"

As before, Makoto had no idea what was going on. Dead? Nana? Safe? Why wasn't she safe here? Her parents hadn't had a problem until today. But they were fine, weren't they? It was part of the game that she was playing with Nana. She stared blankly at the boy with the long braided hair. He sighed and forced her to stand. She realized she was still wearing her mother's dress and necklace.

"Look, girl. Just go that way," the boy pointed, "You'll meet friends there. You'll win your game."

Uncertainly, Makoto backed away from the boy. Moved towards the alley. How did he know about her special game? An after-explosion rocked the ground. She ran.

* * *

During a break in the chaos, one of three Maguanarc soldiers standing the afternoon watch looked up to the sky, his brow furrowing. Below them the sounds of shouting police and rioters were slowly dying down. He could still smell burning stone and cloth and bodies, could still hear the moans of the dying. Perhaps that was why the clouds turning black now and rushed in – perhaps Allah was mourning the deaths of the members of the peace envoy. Perhaps this was an omen of coming war with their enemy tribe.

"Looks like a storm is brewing, Rashid," he murmured.

His two companions looked to the sky as well, each surprised. Sure enough, the clouds were moving in a way that could only mean a sudden storm, and not a sand storm either. The sky was turning far too black for it too be an ordinary sand storm, and they were well past the hurricane season.

"Odd. We aren't due for a storm like this for another three months, at least. Perhaps Allah shows us his sorrow," Rashid murmured, "Master Quatre will be pleased, however."

The three shifted their heads so they could look at each other properly, smiling at the thought of their young Master, but it was quickly washed away by another thought. "Let us hope Master Quatre never learns of what happened to cause it."

Only then did they hear the sounds of a child's tiny sobs. They looked down from their wall quickly looking for the lost child. They saw no one.

Rashid frowned, "We must find the child. Things are too dangerous for the little ones."

The other two nodded and they quickly descended from the wall, searching for the crying child. Then they heard small feet trying to run against cloth. They came across their mysterious child when she tripped and ran into Rashid. She blinked dazedly, staring at the unfamiliar pants she had run into, looking helpless and pathetic in a formal dress that must have been her mothers, judging from the way it dragged on the ground and pooled at her feet. The girl looked up suddenly. Then she backed up, her eyes huge and scared, hurriedly murmuring apologies in a dialect of Arabic that they recognized to be of their enemies' tribe.

"A survivor? ... Girl! What are you doing here? Who are you?" the first soldier barked.

She jerked a little at his harsh tone, auburn hair now falling loosely into frightened green eyes. The soldiers' demeanor relaxed a bit as they realized how scared she was, and the second soldier kneeled down so he was eye level to her.

"I am Abdul. What's your name, child?" he asked, kindly.

"Ma ... Makoto, sir."

"Makoto? Well, Makoto, what are you doing here? Where are your parents?"

Tears welled up in her big eyes and she hugged what looked like a toy fashioned after a phoenix. "Mama and papa ... they're ... they're back there ... " she whispered, gesturing vaguely at the burning remains of the foreign relations office. "Nana's gone! I'm alone ... and lost."

A shared look between the soldiers and they agreed silently to take her back to the palace. She was a survivor of the carnage that was the peace envoy. They would need her if they wished to escape a war, and she needed a home, if not a family. They all knew that Quatre would never forgive them if they did not extend kindness, even to an enemy. Besides, she was young and lost, what could she possibly do to them? Rashid kneeled so that he, like Abdul, was eye level with the tiny child.

"Makoto, you must come with us. It is not safe for you here, with us you will be looked after. You will be safe with us," he offered.

She looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "Really?"

"Yes."

Makoto thought for perhaps two seconds before she nodded. "Thank you. I 'cept your gen-er-ous offer."

Abdul, in a gesture of sympathy, picked the young girl up – preparing to carry her to the palace. Looking as tired as she did, there was cause to doubt that she would make it on her own two feet. The three soldiers shared a look over the top of her head, as well, for she had unusally refined manners for a child.

"How old are you, Makoto?" Abdul asked.

She yawned hugely behind her small hand and rested her head on Abdul's shoulder. "Six ... "

With that small word she drifted into the land of dreams, sleeping more soundly than she had in a week. The three Maguanarcs were ready to drop from shock, though their training forbade it. The girl was six! Abdul looked down at the little girl in his arms.

"So young ... Do not fear, Makoto. We shall not let any harm come to you," he whispered.

* * *

It was a challenge just getting an audience with their king granted. News of the destruction of their office had spread like wildfire, and civilians and officials alike waited with bated breath to hear of the consequences. Would there be war? Would the mob of rebels be put to death? Would they be rewarded? 

"Allow us to pass, quickly! We have news that must not be kept from the king," Rashid demanded of a cleric.

"I cannot do that, sir!" the cleric said anxiously, "Our Lord is swamped with officials and advisors already!"

"This cannot wait!" Rashid said, allowing annoyance to creep into his powerful voice, "This girl must be presented to him – she is a survivor of the attack today! Perhaps the only one!"

The cleric's eyes widened. They were allowed into the audience chamber shortly after, hardly given time to breathe before they were announced to the council and the king. Makoto slumbered against Abdul's shoulder.

"You bring me a girl?" the king snorted, but his interest was still piqued. "How could a girl possibly be so important that she could not wait?"

"Your Majesty, she is the child of one of the peace envoy from the Aswad Naar," Rashid replied.

"WHAT!" the king shouted at his soldiers.

Abdul instinctively covered the girls' ears and winced.

"You dare bring this girl to me, and tell me that she is of our enemy tribe!" the elderly man raved, standing from his throne in a rush, his face reddened.

Rashid stood in front of his fellow soldiers and bowed deeply before the king. "Forgive me, Lord. It was my idea, and as my subordinates they were only following my orders. It is all my fault. But my Lord, she is only a small child – the only survivor of the peace envoy. Surely she can not harm us. Perhaps she can even be used against our enemy someday – or to avoid a war at all."

The king opened his mouth to give another rant, but quickly shut it again. He recognized the values of his appointed head Maguanarc and knew that the man had a good head on his shoulders when it came to battle strategies. He sighed and sat back in his throne.

"Perhaps you are right. Lock her in the dungeon tonight. I'll deal with her in the morning."

"No, father, please!" cried a small voice.

The king looked down at his small son, who was currently standing in one of the many entryways to the throne room, looking horrified.

"Father, please," he repeated, "let her stay in the servants quarters, at least! She is so small, she would never last!"

Once again the king sighed, knowing that he could never deny his son anything. He nodded. "Very well, Quatre, she shall be placed in _your _servants quaters. I will have nothing to do with her. And take her out of those ridiculous clothes. She is no royalty."

Quatre sighed and smiled in relief. He nodded happily. "Thank you, father. I'll take her - "

"Will."

"I _will_ take her. I shall look after her. Abdul, follow me, please."

The soldier nodded and followed the young prince to his quarters, where his servants would take care of the little girl. The king sighed warily and looked down at the remaining two. "She may stay now, but heed this warning: One move from the that indicates her to be our enemies' spy, and you shall all lose your heads."

Rashid nodded gravely. "It is understood, Lord."

"Good. Now leave me."

"Yes, Lord."

"Makoto ... Wake up, child."

The little girl squirmed and wrinkled her tiny nose. The old woman smiled, a smile that a grandmother would bestow upon her favorite grandchild. She had been removed from her fancy dress and necklace. Those things had been carefully washed and placed into a locked trunk in Dalraa's room for safe-keeping. The girl was a servant now – she would likely never see those things again – but the old woman couldn't bring herself to get rid of them. It pained her to wake the child, but she would have to become acquainted with early rising and a long day. She shook the child some more, gently, and finally the emerald green eyes opened.

"Welcome to the land of the living," the woman greeted.

"Where ... ?" Makoto asked sleepily.

"The palace. Your new home, child. I am Dalraa, the head of Lord Quatre's servants. You will report to me daily for your chores and my orders come before everyone except Master Quatre and the King. Is this understood?"

"Not really. But ... I'll try to be fas – fastidi ... to be good."

Dalraa smiled. "That's what I like to hear. Come with me, now, I'll show you where you'll be living. Then I'll give you a tour and explain your duties to the King and his family. Also, your language is forbidden in this city. If anyone overhears you speaking, you'll be a dead girl. So you must learn our ways of speaking, and quickly."

Makoto nodded solemnly and stood, holding out her tiny hand to Dalraa. The old woman smiled patronizingly and took the hand, watching from the corner of her eye as the little girl toddled around, looking from place to place of her new home in awe.

_I hope you'll be happy here, little one, at least a little. And I pray no one will find out the truth of where you come from._


	2. Chapter Two

**Begun:** A long time ago.  
**Ended:** A long time ago. This is just a rewrite.

**Disclaimer:** I hold no claim of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon or Shin Kidou Senki Gundam W. If I did the series' would have turned out far differently.  
**Warnings:** This is the AU to end all AUs. Except not really. It is AU for both series, however, as it takes place in a fairy-tale desert setting. Beware badly romanticized ancient Arabic tribal culture, worse names (I attempted to find actual Arabic names, but who knows how well that worked out), and lots of not-so-subtle shounen-ai hinting.

* * *

Makoto sighed to herself, looking around at the drab halls that were her home. She concentrated and tried to remember how long it was, counting on her fingers. It was nine years. Nine years since she had become a servant to Prince Quatre. Who had recently become King Quatre. Who had saved her life when she was five and newly arrived at the palace after the attack on her tribe's peace envoy – that she could not forget. 

She could still recall her earlier times at the palace, the fun and joy of being alive, no matter that she was a servant. She was still a young girl then. Yes, she had been forced to learn a new dialect of her own language within a few months, or she would have never been able to set foot outside the palace again. But she had still been young, and Dalraa had seen to it that she have something of a childhood. She had been allowed sweets and had never had too much work that she couldn't handle. Dalraa had even seen to it that Makoto be allowed a minimum education.

The king had suddenly died less than two years later, making Quatre the king and his mother a widowed queen. Dalraa had been a kind and loving old woman, whom Makoto had valued as a grandmother, but she had died not a week after the king. She had lost her closest friend and grandmother and had mourned for weeks. If she were being true to herself, she still mourned for the old woman. But she had never cried. Makoto, then seven years old, a child from an enemy tribe, had been left in the hands of a cruel taskmaster. And still she never cried.

"Makoto! Idiot! Why are you standing there day dreaming! You have chores and by Allah, you will do them!" shouted Saia.

Makoto sighed again. Think of the devil, and she always followed. "Of course, Saia. I will do them, when I am told what to do," she replied politely.

The young woman sneered down at the 14 year old girl. "You know your chores by now, girl. I do not change them. Go wash the Great Hall floor, then make sure Lord Quatre's table is ready for his breakfast. Lazy, Aswad Naar trash."

Now Makoto bristled at the insult to her tribe. She knew that the Aswad Naar and the Akhdar Gabal were enemies, but she did not see the reason why she was not thought of as Akhdar Gabal. Nearly everyone in the palace, for she was never outside the palace for long, stayed clear of her because they knew she had come from the Aswad Naar. If not for them, Makoto herself would have thought that she was a part of their tribe. It wasn't like she could remember anything of her own supposed home. But this was no place for those sorts of musings.

She raised her chin in defiance of Saia's insistence that she keep her head down, "Of course, Saia. I will go now."

"See that you do. I want that floor immaculate."

With that, the head of Quatre's servants turned on her heels and swept down the halls. Makoto waited until she was well out of hearing range and growled, using language that would have given Dalraa a heart attack, "Damn you, Saia. You will be sorry one of these days, and it will not have anything to do with me injuring you."

With that, Makoto turned on _her _heel to go about her chores. Those who passed her could have sworn that she was floating.

* * *

"You sing while you work," said a cheerful voice, "That's unusual."

Makoto dropped her rag as she spun around to face the owner of the voice, pressing herself against the table as if it would protect her. She came face to face with Duo – King Quatre's personal bodyguard. Inwardly she sighed in relief and was thankful of her veil that kept her blush from being seen. Outwardly she merely relax and cast her eyes to the floor, as was proper.

"I'm sorry," she said softly, "I didn't mean to upset."

"Who said anything about 'upset'?" asked Duo, "It was a nice melody. What song is it?"

"I ... I'm sorry. I don't know."

"Oh. So how do you know it?"

She offered a sheepish smile and tapped her temple, "It is in my memory."

"Oh."

Makoto stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. She could not just turn her back on one of the King's own bodyguards, that she knew well. She could not ask him to leave, either. And he did not seem to want to dismiss her. Rather, he seemed to enjoy staring at her. Makoto was sure her cheeks would resemble the red of his uniform when she looked at them next. One of the Great Hall doors opened and rescued her from the elongating silence.

"Duo," said a quiet voice.

"Trowa."

Makoto never looked up, but she knew that Duo's attention was still on her.

"Come. We must be ready for Quatre's meeting today with his advisors."

"Right. At ease, girl. Return to your work," the braided man's voice said, fading as he turned on his heel and left the Great Hall.

And somehow Makoto didn't feel that he had given her an order, even though he clearly had.

* * *

"Lord Quatre! You _must_see to reason. Most men your age have already taken wives. Lord WuFei is happily married to the Lady Rei – even Lord Heero has taken the Lady Ami for a bride – and you are their king! You must produce an heir!"

The blond king of the Akhdar Gabal sighed and stifled a yawn. Even so, he smiled slightly, trying to imagine WuFei being _happily _married. The arguments of Rei and WuFei were infamous among his friends. His mirth was cut short too quickly, remembering his own situation – he was quickly growing tired of his advisors pestering him to marry any girl they threw at him, just to produce an heir. What need did he have for women, when he had his bodyguards? Mentally Quatre smiled evilly, imagining the looks on the old mens' faces if he ever told them what he did in his private quarters. However, he could not tell his advisors to relax in the middle of the main avenue, no matter how much he would have enjoyed it. Sitting straight and tall, he held up a hand to stop the complaints.

"I shall choose a bride when I am ready for one. As of now I have no wish to marry, nor do I see anyone I could love."

The advisors all wanted to facevault, while the two guards Trowa and Duo were ready to fall over laughing. They knew that the young king would never agree to an arranged marriage, tradition be damned! They shared a look, both smiling simultaneously – a smile that would have had anyone cowering in fear of it.

_Why should Quatre want a bride when he has us?_

They were all young – they and the young king were only 18. The two boys had been made Quatre's personal guards by the king shortly after the girl from the Aswad Naar tribe had been taken in by the former king. Quatre had since become close friends with the two, often confiding in them, as well as turning to them in times of need.

"And who in the palace could you fall in love with, Lord Quatre?" asked one particularly snobbish old man, "The girl from Aswad Naar?"

Quatre frowned suddenly. _I still don't know what happened to that girl. I remember that she was put with my personal attendants, but I haven't seen her since_, he thought to himself before speaking, "May I remind you that, as king, I have the right to choose when and whom I marry. My father did not arrange any marriage for me before his death, so do not lie. I will have my heir, when I have found my love."

The advisors sighed and nodded, but would not admit defeat.

"My Lord Quatre," one began, "You do not even agree to meet any of the noble women of our tribe. How do you propose to find love, if you do not _know_ any one?"

The blond nodded. "That is true. Perhaps if I were let out of the palace without guards, I would meet someone."

"Never! Lord Quatre, you must understand that it is for your own protection that you have bodyguards."

Each advisor agreed, and Trowa placed a hand on Quatre's shoulder for support. Duo smiled down at him from his other side. The young king grinned inwardly, delighted to know that he had such loyal friends and lovers. The old men talked amongst themselves, before apparently coming to some sort of conclusion to their dilemma.

"Lord Quatre," the eldest man started, "I've an idea. Would you not agree to a ball? We shall invite all the eligible women from our tribe and those of our allies. There you shall be able to meet them and perhaps find your ... love."

Quatre was startled by the suggestion, but Duo gave him the 'go ahead' nudge. Trusting his close friend, Quatre nodded. "Very well. You may arrange this ball."

The advisor nodded. "There shall be three held in succession, and by the end of the third, you must chose your bride, or we shall chose one for you. Lord Quatre, you may be king, but you are only sixteen. And if you will not listen to us, we will declare you unfit to rule."

Now the young monarch knew why Duo had told him to agree; he was pushing his advisors' patience _much_ too far to the limit. With a sigh and a small prayer of thanks to Allah for a friend like his guard, Quatre relented. "I understand. It shall be done."

* * *

Makoto sighed and continued scrubbing at the floors, looking tiny and lost in her ragged dress. She had grown to be taller than most women, it was true, but she was thin from years of hard work and little to eat. Her dress was patched together from many kinds of fabrics, all faded from use, and looked to have been washed many times. It was not that she was purposely dressed in rags to keep her from being noticed, though that was a bonus, but it was more that she could not get her hands on any materials to make a proper outfit. Saia used them all for herself and the others, and she had to make due with the left overs.

Sometimes it grated on Makoto's nerves, the way she was treated. But there was nothing she could do about it, and she knew that only too well. She would not want to try anything to change her situation, anyway – she had no where else to go. Despite her being a lowly servant to the king now, she had once been of a prominent noble family of the Aswad Naar. She was sure of it. Makoto remembered playing in her mother's fine dresses – her favorite had been one of light blue spun silk – and jewelry. She remembered that she'd had them on when she was first brought to the palace. She was certain that they were still with Dalraa's old things. Nobody in the palace knew this, of course, or she would have long been dead.

If she was dead, she would never see Quatre again. Makoto sighed. The very thought of the young prince, who had most likely saved her life, made her tingle. She knew that she was in love with him – she had been for a very long time.

_Or at least I'm in love with this idealized image of him_, the girl acknowledged grudgingly.

Of course she couldn't be in love with Quatre himself. She didn't even know him. Makoto had all but given up hope in ever reaching him, however, it seemed this ball would give her the chance. Scrubbing harder now, as if that would make her problems go away, Makoto briefly wondered if singing would make the prince love her like it did in fairy tales. She laughed at her own foolishness, but even then she could not make herself stop hoping.

"If only this were a fairy tale and I could sing," she mumbled, "I could be his bride ... "

Makoto froze as her hallway was invaded by old advisors, all talking of the planning that would have to go into the three balls.

_Three balls ... ?_

"He will choose his bride," one man said, "Or we will choose one for him. We must have this spare chosen, but do not notify the family. We cannot have any misunderstandings."

"Of course." the others agreed.

Then they were gone. Makoto leaned heavily against the closest wall, her eyes wide.


	3. Chapter Three

**Begun:** A long time ago.  
**Ended:** A long time ago. This is just a rewrite.

**Disclaimer:** I hold no claim of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon or Shin Kidou Senki Gundam W. If I did the series' would have turned out far differently.  
**Warnings:** This is the AU to end all AUs. Except not really. It is AU for both series, however, as it takes place in a fairy-tale desert setting. Beware badly romanticized ancient Arabic tribal culture, worse names (I attempted to find actual Arabic names, but who knows how well that worked out), and lots of not-so-subtle shounen-ai hinting.

* * *

The houses were all dark with the night, their occupants sleeping soundly inside if they were not attending the ball. None were awake to notice the young girl running swiftly by. 

It was close. So close. She could hear the noises of celebration and laughter behind her, and music floating from the direction of the palace faintly. But it wouldn't matter if she didn't get to her final destination without being caught. She knew she was close. The building ruins that stood, but no one ever when in – even if they didn't know what happened there. Now she would break that taboo. Finally she vaulted over the short wall and found the basement door. She slid inside and shut it quickly.

"Never again!" Makoto vowed, panting.

She huddled in a small building near the palace. Abandoned and falling apart, the only thing she could think about was the nervousness that came with sneaking into a ball. The building was conveniently out of the public eye, but it was also very close to the palace, so it was the perfect place to change into her clothes.

"I will never do this again. I swear someone was following me." She looked down at the small bag in her arms and held it close. "Mama ... " she whispered.

It had taken much planning and a lot of caution, but Makoto had finally found her mother's dress, with her phoenix toy and mother's necklace. She was certain that no one had seen her sneaking into Saia's room to take her possessions back, and she knew it would take Saia at least a fortnight to realize that it was gone. Opening the package slowly, reverently, she brought out her mother's dress, the one that Makoto remembered asking to be allowed to wear time and again.

"I'll finally be your little lady, mama," Makoto vowed.

After changing into the dress that her mother had worn for her wedding and many other special occasions, the girl made sure she had the invitation which she had snuck out the document room while cleaning. Since no one had been there at the time, and no one knew she could write, she had penned her name onto one of the extra invitations. When Gabul had returned, he was greeted by the young servant girl tidying up some papers that had been blown off his desk. He had barked a sharp 'what are you doing!' at her, and she had explained. Gruffly nodding and making motions for her to back away from the desk, the old man had looked through the papers and made sure she had not taken anything. Then he had seen the new invitation and paused suddenly, scratching his head.

_"Where did this come from? ... " he had muttered. _

Deciding that the important thing was not _where_ it had come from but _why_it had not been sent out, Gabul had told Makoto to make sure it was mailed. While leaving the office, she had simply pocketed it and brought it with her. Laughing happily, the Arabian princess twirled around a few times, watching the pale blue skirt flare out. Pausing to elaborately do up her hair with few pins, Makoto hummed to herself. It was not wonderful singing but then again, she had never been taught to sing.

"Quatre ... My lord ... Perhaps tonight I shall be the lucky one you notice."

She grinned at the silly thought and cautiously left the crumbling house, ready for her debut at the ball.

* * *

Makoto hid behind a building, trying to gather her courage to step forward and enter the palace again. She watched the processions and wondered how on earth she had thought she could pass for nobility. She had no palanquin, no servants of her own, nothing to show that she could possibly have been invited. Makoto sighed, resting against the cool stone. 

_What a fool I am ..._

A procession passed her with pomp and glory, two servants walking dutifully at the end of it. None noticed her standing there. But Makoto noticed the servants. Her eyes widened to near impossible proportions. She knew them! She knew she did!

_I just can't remember their names ..._

Rashid stood on guard duty, checking invitations as the guests arrived in their fancy palanquins, servants following behind on camels or foot. He sighed as yet another flighty girl giggled at him, batting her eyelashes. The large man waved her through and inwardly sighed with relief. Only a few more snobbish girls to go, she was third to last on the guest list.

"Presenting the Lady Relena!" shouted a voice from somewhere out of sight range.

_I wouldn't stay in sight either, if I had a job like _that, Rashid thought with much sympathy for the man.

When the young princess stepped out, the Maguanarc had an irrisistable urge to fall over laughing, which he was able to quell only due to his harsh training as a soldier. This woman would _never_win over their young Quatre, though she obviously thought different. Relena had chosen not according to the weather as she should have, but according to how ornamented her gown was. By the look of things, she was sweating under the glittering pink and white abomination, and was making a considerable effort simply to move.

"My Lady, may I see your invitation?" the guard asked with as much politeness as he could muster.

She looked down her nose at him, quite a feat since he was at least a foot taller than her outrageous and, frankly, stupid hairstyle. One of the servants who dutifully trailed behind her now stepped forward and held out the invitation to the man.

"Aswad Naar trash! Be thankful that I don't cut your hands off here and now! You move when I tell you to, is that clear?" Relena barked at her.

The blue haired girl bowed her head in shame while the black haired girl simmered with unspoken rage. Rashid said nothing, for it was not his place, allowing them to enter the palace, but he _did_give the two servants an apologetic glance which left the two quite confused. He felt pity for them, remembering in the back of his mind the young girl he had found from the ruins of the peace envoy. She had disappeared into the den of the servants and, as far as Rashid knew, never came back out. Sometimes he wondered what happened to her, but he couldn't let himself dwell on it.

Not long after, another princess arrived.

"You there, guard! Is this the palace of the King, Quatre?" she snapped.

Rashid took one look at her and filed her away in the same class of woman as Relena. Her hair was not as outrageous, thankfully, but she was dressed just as poorly and with all of the same ornaments.

_Ridiculous ..._ he sighed mentally, but smiled politely and bowed, "Yes, my lady, it is. May I see your invitation?"

Yet another poorly treated servant humbly stepped forward and presented the invitation of the Lady Hilde. He allowed them to enter, whishing them a pleasant evening and earning a gaze that suggested he was an alien in return.

"Annoying little twits, are they not?"

Rashid glanced to his side and grinned agreeably at Duo. The braided guard stood next to the

Maguanarc to offer him silent company for the rest of the night. The large man was more than thankful to have him there, seeing as standing about all night waiting for something suspicious to happen was rather boring with no companion.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but am I at the palace of your King, the Lord Quatre?" asked a pretty young lady.

_Much better – this one may actually have a chance in hell_, Rashid thought with a mental grin. He cast a quick glance at Duo, noting that the young guard thought along a similar vein. Perhaps this woman would be worth the pain, "Indeed it is, my lady."

He bowed to her, she returned it. He offered his hand, which she took and allowed him to kiss. Then he straightened and once again asked his routien question of the night.

"May I see your invitation?"

The young lady turned to her young servant and smiled softly at the girl. "Minako-chan? Will you do the honors?"

Rashid smiled as the small blond girl called Minako shuffled forward awkwardly and presented him with the paper. Contrary to his or Duo's expectations, she was not berated for her lack of grace. Both smiled to themselves.

"Thank you, Minako," Rashid said kindly, "Have a nice evening, Lady Une."

Une bowed towards him. "And you, kind sir."

She and Minako entered the palace and were esquorted to the ballroom by Abdul, who had been given that duty since he had been in the palace longer than any other servant. Duo smiled a little in their direction.

"She was certainly a nice woman," he said, though it caused him a slight pang of jealousy. Would Quatre really choose one of these women? He knew, logically, that he shouldn't be so upset at the idea. Quatre was King, and the King needed an heir. He and Trowa could not produce that heir for him. So he had to suck it up and go along with it. But who said he had to be logical when it was his sex life at stake? "A bit old for our Quatre, however, I do not think it will matter, should he choose her."

The Maguanarc nodded his agreement. "Only one to go, then we can begin our task for the night."

"Would that be making sure the Lady Relena and the Lady Hilde are not kicked out?"

Chuckling, Rashid bapped Duo lightly over the head. "No. Ensuring that the Lady Dorothy does not escape with any of our treasury's gold."

The guard snorted and made a sound of agreement. He looked down at the list to see who the last guest was and saw a name he did not recognize. "The Lady Makoto? I have never heard her name before."

"She is nearly late," Rashid replied, looking at the old advisors who was supervising the time.

The old man was about ready to tell them to close the gates, seeing as he was standing up from his seat against the wall, looking impatient.

"Forgive me! I am afraid I got lost among the unfamiliar streets."

Duo and Rashid both did a double take. A choked noise from the throat of the old man said they weren't the only ones to be affected, and both took relief in this. Une, Catherine, Sally, Haruka and Usagi had all been beautiful women, and even Relena, Hilde, and many of the other women would have been pretty had they not covered their faces in make up, but this girl was different. She was more an exotic breed of faery rather than a mortal. For while blond hair and blue eyes were rare, auburn hair and emerald green eyes were far harder to find.

"Do not fear, my lady. You are not late, nor do we hold it against you to get lost," Duo said, smiling at her. His smile was slightly sharp, however. Something was different with this girl, certainly, and it was not just her looks. She seemed very familiar. He was sure he'd seen her eyes before, somewhere. Even her clothes looked like something he'd seen in his memory.

Makoto looked into his friendly violet eyes and smiled back, brushing an errant strand of hair from her face. "I am glad."

"May I see your invitation, my lady?" Rashid asked, trying to get back into a normal frame of mind.

"Oh! How stupid of me to forget!" the girl laughed at herself, bringing forth from her skirt the paper.

Rashid and Duo bowed to her, a guesture she returned perfectly, and allowed her entry. She was escorted to the ballroom by Abdul, just as the old advisor signaled for the closing of the gates. The two did so and looked back in Makoto's direction.

"Strange girl, she is," the braided boy said thoughtfully.

"Strange indeed," the Maguanarc agreed, "But familiar somehow ... "

Duo was glad to know that he wasn't the only one with those suspicions.


	4. Chapter Four

**Begun:** A long time ago.  
**Ended:** A long time ago. This is just a rewrite.

**Disclaimer:** I hold no claim of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon or Shin Kidou Senki Gundam W. If I did the series' would have turned out far differently.  
**Warnings:** This is the AU to end all AUs. Except not really. It is AU for both series, however, as it takes place in a fairy-tale desert setting. Beware badly romanticized ancient Arabic tribal culture, worse names (I attempted to find actual Arabic names, but who knows how well that worked out), and lots of not-so-subtle shounen-ai hinting.

* * *

Makoto looked around her in wonder as she entered the ballroom, trying to be discreet about it. She was supposed to be used to this, after all. Luckily Abdul bowed to her – she absently returned the gesture – and left her. She paused before stepping forward and stopping to look around once more.

The huge room as she knew it seemed non-existent, like something she had only imagined. Lamps adorned the walls and fine silk table clothes were draped in graceful patterns over the tables. The guests were dancing, laughing and eating. Everything seemed so perfect that it made Makoto's heart ache, wondering if she might have known such finery in her early life. If she had, she couldn't remember. She couldn't remember her parents – she could hardly remember anyone but Dalraa and the king. A life before the palace seemed absurd, but she knew it had happened. Saia made sure to remind her of that every day.

_Did I know this perfection?_ Makoto wondered again.

And everything was perfect ... mostly. She frowned. Something was amiss, though, she just didn't know what. Looking around, the young girl noticed almost immediately Quatre's position in the room, high on his throne, looking ... well, bored would be putting it lightly. More accurately, he looked like he would have preferred to be taking off his own limbs with a sword at the moment.

"Poor Lord Quatre ... " she sighed in sympathy.

The blond king sat upon his throne, Trowa beside him, while simpering girls swooned at his feet

in vain attempts to gain his attention. One particularly good looking blond girl with a rather strange hair style had made her way to the front of the line and the brown haired guard all but threw Quatre at her. She could almost hear the king's surprised yelp as he was forcefully separated from his throne. Watching at the heated glaring going on between the two, Makoto figured that Quatre was being forced to dance with the girl, and did _not_want to.

"It would almost be funny, it he didn't look so damn miserable," she muttered. There was no one here she had to impress, so she did not bother with the rigid speech pattern of the high class.

She sighed and selected a nice and comfortable looking wall to lean against. She snatched a goblet of wine on her way to said wall, sipping it slowly as she observed everyone dancing around her. But none came to ask her to dance. Soon she was bored, contemplating the swirling of the last of the wine in her glass – totally unaware of Duo's and Trowa's eyes on her.

"That's the last of the guests on the list. She was almost late. Came on her own – not even a single servant with her," Duo said quietly.

"Modest?" Trowa asked.

Duo shrugged, "I don't know. She had enough confidence to be nobility. But I've never heard of her before, let alone seen her. It's strange, though."

"Oh?"

"I keep thinking that I've seen her before, long ago. But I know I haven't."

"Hm."

"Hey, look. She's moving."

"So?"

"I'm going to follow her."

"Do as you like. I'll wait for Quatre here."

"I'll be back."

Duo took off, moving silently against the wall so he would not be held up by dancers or too many people in his way. Sure enough, moving along the walls herself so as not to attract unwanted attention, Makoto was leaving the ball room. She was headed for the balcony where she could get a better view of Quatre and see the stars at the same time. The sky was slowly being misted by clouds, giving the sky that much more mystery. She loved it like that. With no real sense of reality or time to keep her from being relaxed, Makoto sat on the ledge of the balcony and stared up at the huge moon that hung over the desert.

_Let this not be my doom. Let my mother and father and nana look down on me and smile proudly. Let their souls be at peace_, she prayed, not caring that a tear or two slipped down her cheeks.

"My lady?" asked a concerned voice.

Jumping slightly at the intrusion, Makoto whipped around to give a snide remark and came face to

face with ... Whatever she had planned to say died on her lips as she quickly looked away in an attempt to hide the blush on her face. It was surprisingly easy not to bow on impluse as a slave would do, but to turn and offer him one that would be fitting of a supposed high class lady.

"Yes, my Lord?"

Quatre, who had been watching her for a good three minutes, bowed back, enchanted. Because Makoto was looking at the ground, however, she did not notice that. The young king stepped forward and tilted her head up.

"If I may ask, why are you standing out here alone?"

Makoto flushed at his gentle touch and looked up at the sky again. "I like the stars ... They're pretty ... so far away."

The blond boy smiled at her back. He had seen her flush and found it absolutely adorable. Of course, her exotic features helped her in the looks department, but he also liked the fact that she was not falling all over him.

_She's quite beautiful. Like a combination of Duo and Trowa, almost. And she seems intelligent enough ... certainly she's not obnoxious like the others in there. Perhaps she could be the one_, he thought excitedly.

He moved to stand beside her, glancing at her profile as she stared at the stars. The innocent awe in her eyes was all he needed to see to know that he was falling in love with her.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked her suddenly.

"Yes," Makoto responded immediately, then blushed when Quatre chuckled.

"You were bored as well, then?"

Makoto didn't answer. She couldn't. To hide her embarrassment, she turned in preparation to start walking back to the ballroom, but Quatre took her hand and stopped her. She looked back at him, curiosity written on her face. He shook his head. Duo, who had been watching them the whole time, grinned knowingly. He took a seat, stretching his long legs and setting them on the seat of another chair, blocking the way to the balcony from the rabid pack of queen-hopefuls. The curtains were closed shortly after, but not before Quatre could see the slightly sad smile gracing his guard's face. The young king felt bad, but ...

"If you don't mind terribly, I'd like to dance out here, privately."

Makoto, blushing modestly, nodded and positioned herself for the dance and he joined her. The music could clearly be heard through the thick curtains and pulsed through their veins as they moved in synch with each other, looking into the other's eyes the entire time. Even so, Quatre was certain that Duo was watching them. They danced for a seeming eternity ... then the twelve gongs sounded; it was midnight.

_Shit! I have to get back quickly, before my absence is noted by Saia! I will be needed to help clean up!_ Makoto thought furiously, pulling away from Quatre.

"What is it?" the king asked, trying to pull her back.

"I am sorry ... I have to go."

"No! You can't! I don't even know your name!"

"I am sorry ... " she whispered. Then she ran.

"Wait!" Quatre shouted after her, breaking into a run, "My Lady! Come back!"

Makoto sent up thousands of apologies as she ran faster, quickly getting away from him through one of the shortcuts only servants knew about. She could hear him shouting orders for his soldiers to look for her, and prayed that eventually he would forgive her. But she did have chores and could not afford to lose her cover now. She burst into the night and ran for her abandoned building with a vigor that she didn't know she possessed.

* * *

"Makoto! You are late!" Saia scolded, but it was without her usual vigor.

"Yes, Saia. I am sorry," Makoto said quietly, bowing her head to the horrible woman. She was sure to receive some punishment now ...

The stern lady sighed and turned away, calling over her back as she left, "You know what you have to do. Do it."

Makoto blinked as Saia walked away, presumably back to the ballroom to begin cleaning up after the guests and preparing for tomorrows dance. She joined the others who were put to the task of cleaning up the kitchen, throwing herself into the cleaning and listening silently to the gossip.

"What's wrong with Saia? The poor woman seems so sad tonight."

"She loves our King."

"Surely she knows it is impossible!"

"Ah, but love can do strange things to a woman's heart."

"And haven't you heard, Karaan? King Quatre has been giving orders for a girl to be found. He's so in love with her."

"Who is she?"

"That's the thing! No body knows!"

"Isn't it romantic!"

The Aswad Naar girl sighed, knowing that she could not possibly be that girl, not after running away like she did. Hearing of Saia's love for the king made her heart ache in sympathy, despite her hatred of the woman.

_She knows how impossible it is, like I do, but she also knows how impossible it is to give up your dreams. Just like I do. But I've ruined mine, now, haven't I? Though ... maybe ... just maybe ... Maybe he won't hate me, _she sighed.

All the girls noticed a distinct bounce in her step as she imagined dancing with Quatre for the rest of the night, but none thought to comment on it. Let the other have her contentment – it was none of their business. They all noticed the young guard by the name of Duo watching the girl with a sharp gaze, though she seemed oblivious, but they ignored that as well. If the Aswad Naar was going to be punished or killed, let her. She was the enemy, wasn't she?


	5. Chapter Five

**Begun:** A long time ago.  
**Ended:** A long time ago. This is just a rewrite.

**Disclaimer:** I hold no claim of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon or Shin Kidou Senki Gundam W. If I did the series' would have turned out far differently.  
**Warnings:** This is the AU to end all AUs. Except not really. It is AU for both series, however, as it takes place in a fairy-tale desert setting. Beware badly romanticized ancient Arabic tribal culture, worse names (I attempted to find actual Arabic names, but who knows how well that worked out), and lots of not-so-subtle shounen-ai hinting.

* * *

"But Master Quatre – "

"No objections!" Quatre interrupted, "There were to be three balls, anyway. I have found the girl I wish to marry, I will not let her get away!"

The advisors, flabbergasted, sighed and gave up, knowing that they were fighting a losing battle. When Quatre made up his mind about something, he would do what he wanted to achieve that end and that was final. Though all were pleased to see that their plan was indeed working, none had expected such a reaction from their prince, and all had been certain that their matchmaking would be assured. It was not only the advisors who were surprised by Quatre's heated response. From their posts beside the young king, Trowa and Duo shared glances that were both saddened and happy.

_Ah the beauty of love_, Trowa chuckled to himself, though even he could not deny the sardonic overtone to his own mental voice.

_At least our King will have his heir should we find this girl_, Duo sighed, _Though she should be punished for running from our Lord_.

Bothguards wondered if they were going to be forgotten.

"Very well, Master Quatre," sighed an old man, "The announcement shall be made. But will you not tell us who this girl is, to have you so enraptured?"

Now Quatre seemed to blush and he looked down. "I do not know. She did not tell me her name before she left. That is why this ball must be had, and she must attend."

Trowa and Duo, despite personal feelings, fought to keep from laughing and tried to smile fondly down at the young blond without falling over. The advisors did not seem as amused, but they knew better than to chide or outright argue with their monarch; especially not with the over-protective Maguanarcs, who were fiercely loyal to the boy, at their posts around the hall.

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" shouted one of the younger council, "You heard your king. Get the lazy servants roused! We have preparations to make for tonight!"

Duo and Trowa tried not to wince. The advisors started filing out of the room one by one. When they were all gone, Quatre turned to his two lovers.

"Love ... it's an appropriately funny word for a funny thing," he sighed.

"What d'you mean, Quatre?" the braided boy asked, tilting his head to one side quizzically.

The blonde smiled ruefully, "How could I love her? I met her last night. How could I love her when I love you and Trowa? And yet I can't imagine being married to anyone but that girl or you two. And I can't marry you, can I?"

"No, I suppose not," Trowa said quietly.

Duo, interestingly, was the silent one this time, settling for wrapping Quatre in a warm hug instead of saying anything. The blonde king melted into it. With one finger, Duo motioned for Trowa to join them, and the taller boy did so, wrapping his arms around Quatre from behind and threading Duo's long hair through his fingers.

_Such gorgeous hair ..._ he sighed internally, reveling in its softness as he always did. _Maybe it won't be so hard with just us when Quatre and that girl are married._

The braided boy frowned while he thought, burrowing his face in Quatre's hair to hide it. It wouldn't do to have his line of thought interrupted after all. But there's something about that girl from last night ...

All too soon, Quatre was called away to tend to affairs of state. Trowa and Duo were dismissed from their post, as he would be in his office with other ministers who hated their presence. The two bowed and left the large room. Duo brightened and placed his hand on Trowa's arm. The green eyes turned to him in question.

"There's someone I want you to meet," the braided boy said, smiling mysteriously.

* * *

The announcement for the second ball was made later that morning. All of those invited to the first ball were re-invited, and it was made clear that those who could produce no reason for not attending would be stoned to death in the market square. Makoto winced when she heard this, quite sure that Quatre had _not_ made that a requirement, and resigned herself to going. Even if last night had been a disguise, she couldn't be sure that she wouldn't be found out for that. Then she would be stoned anyway. It was a lose-lose situation, really.

"Perhaps he really does want to see me again," she sighed, but laughed at her silly thought, "No, no ... I'm just being overly optimistic. There's no way ... "

Perhaps the worst outcome of the announcement was that Saia was not in a very good mood. All day long she yelled, scolded, and handed out more chores than ever before, and punished those under her for absolutely no reason. Makoto herself sported a few bruises on her sides from slaps that Saia had delivered to her for spilling a little water on a floor that was just recently cleaned. She chalked it up to the older woman being in love with their king, but she still believed that to be no decent reason for Saia's frustrations being taken out on them. A little voice in the back of her head reminded her that she was being selfish and uncaring, so Makoto stopped that line of thought and focused instead on her cleaning. Even so, the other maids talked, and she found it hard not to pay attention to them.

"Do you think that girl will show up again?"

"Of course! She's been summoned! She can't refuse!"

"Maybe Lord Quatre will have her punished."

"What are you talking about?"

"I heard that he's so mad at her for running out on him, that he even yelled at his advisors today."

"Well I heard that he yelled at them because they were trying to stop him from seeing her again."

"Oh, you don't know anything. Listen: Lord Quatre wants her to be his bride! I heard him talking to his advisors today. He told them all that he had found the girl he wants to marry and refuses to let her get away!"

"But how is that possible? She could be millions of miles away by now."

"Idiot! There's no way. And don't you look smug! That girl's not the only one coming back, all the original guests are, too. Get back to work! We've much to prepare."

Makoto sighed and continued scrubbing, though more dejectedly and with less efficiency than was usual for her. All the talk from the other servants had her head swimming with questions. Did Quatre really want her back? Or did he just want to punish her for running from him? Would she be hanged? Would he propose marriage? She sighed and let her wash-rag fall from limp fingers as she settled back on her heels in a kneeling position. She would go, whatever the consequences, and if punishment was her fate, she would be stoned in the market square either way.

"You're not singing today?" Duo's voice asked.

Makoto nearly toppled, cursing inwardly. That was the second time! She grinned ruefully, knowing the other couldn't see her – there had to have been a reason for Duo's being chosen to be Quatre's bodyguard, after all. She supposed this was it. She bowed before him.

"No, sir. I am sorry."

"Please continue your chores. You'll be yelled at if you don't," Duo said.

Makoto bowed her head and moved to another section of the floor that she was to clean. Two sets of footsteps followed her movements.

_Two!_

"You are injured."

It was a calm statement, but it nearly made Makoto's blood freeze. She forced herself to continue cleaning despite it. Trowa had that effect on people, or so she'd heard. That was the reason he was Quatre's other bodyguard. She wondered what in the world either of them wanted to do with her.

"No, sir. It is nothing."

"Liar," Duo said cheerfully.

Makoto blushed, "I am clumsy, sir. It was my punishment. I deserved it."

"Spilling clean water on a clean floor?"

She would have shrugged if they had been other servants. But they were not. She kept silent, studiously scrubbing the floor and avoiding eye-contact. The sound of clothes ruffling indicated that Duo was kneeling down to her level. She gasped and stopped moving, lowering her head quickly.

"Does it hurt?" the braided soldier asked.

"It could have been worse. I am fine, sir. Thank you."

A hand touched her side and she hissed softly, flinching away. It didn't go unnoticed by either man. Duo stood, patting her head almost in apology.

"I suppose it could have been worse. But you are still hurt. You should treat it," he said.

Makoto didn't know what to say, so she bowed lower, "Thank you, sir." She didn't rise from her bow until she was sure both men had left the room.

* * *

Once again were Rashid and the other Maguanarcs on guard duty, giving the guests their leave of entry into the brightly lit halls of the palace, not once being able to take part in the festivities going on inside. Duo and Trowa were both attending to Lord Quatre, this time saving him from many a female who would throw themselves at him and pretend to be the girl he was looking for. Relena and Hilde were at the front of that line, but it stretched far back into the Great Hall – ridiculous, of course, because none looked remotely like the girl from the night before. And Quatre, of course, had a better memory for faces than they hoped. Duo scanned the walls carefully, since he had seen her standing there the night before. He wasn't disappointed.

"Trowa ... look there," he murmured.

The taller boy followed the line of his eyes, looking at a young brunette in a light blue dress who was huddled against the wall with a goblet of wine and bored expression.

"She does look familiar," he acknowledged.

"But who does she look like? That's what I can't figure out. I know I've seen that dress somewhere before, but I can't remember where for the life of me."

"Hm ... " Trowa shrugged.

"Duo!"

The braided guard turned away from Trowa with a startled and sheepish look. Quatre gave him a teasing smile, promising him that this would not be forgotten, and Duo grinned ruefully.

"Yes, Lord?" he asked politely.

"That girl ... " the blond pointed discreetly at a young girl he was sure was the One, "I'm sure she's who I'm looking for. Bring her to me."

"Oh? And you can not bring her yourself?" Duo asked archly, raising a brow. His mischievous grin nearly glowed in the torchlight. It certainly was a sight, one that Quatre and Trowa both loved, and caused a short hush among the women.

"Duo," Quatre sighed with a pleading note to his voice.

The other boy laughed and his violet eyes sparkled with his mood. He nodded and held his hands up and a placating gesture. "Very well, Lord, it shall be done!" And with that he swept away from the dias on which Quatre sat. It was a short journey to the wall – with all the women crowded around Quatre there were none to get in his way. He was soon standing in front of the girl. "My Lady," he said smoothly, "Lord Quatre wishes to be granted an audience with you."

Makoto looked up at him, surprise showing through her green eyes, but she quickly remembered her proper manners and bowed, looking demurely at the floor. She reached for the offered hand. "I would be delighted to be granted his presence."

Duo grinned to himself. That had been far easier than he had hoped it would be. He led her through the throngs of people, some talking to others, some drinking or eating, and still more dancing, to where Quatre and Trowa stood. There he bowed and she immediately copied the gesture.

"My Lord Quatre, your Lady, as requested," Duo said solemnly, grinning over Makoto's bowed head.

The blond gave him a glare that might have been effective if it had actually been from one who was malicious, and turned his attention to Makoto. He tipped up her chin so that she was forced to meet his eyes.

"Lady, would you like to dance?"

"I would be honored," she murmured.

"On the balcony, perhaps?" Quatre asked, hoping for the answer he desperately wanted to hear.

"I ... I do like the stars, Lord."

With a kind smile and a heart far lighter than he could remember, the young king led Makoto out to the balcony, a different one than they had been on last time. Duo grinned at Trowa, who settled for smirking back at him. The braided boy followed, ready to close the curtains to the balcony again when Trowa stopped him, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"I don't suppose she minds more than one?"

Duo practically choked on his laughter as he swooped off. Once again he closed the curtains for them and settled himself on two chairs to block the way. Trowa came shortly after, peeking out through one side. King Quatre and Makoto danced three straight dances before sitting on one of the low railings to sit. They talked of various things, and the blond was quite pleased to see that Makoto was one who could hold an intelligent conversation. Then he brought up family, and told her of his mother's favorite head piece, and showed it to her. She handled with such care and reverence that he took it back and placed it upon her head. Makoto protested, but he held firmly to his actions and in the end she had no choice but to accept it. When he asked about her family, however, her words became slightly strained, and she wanted to change the subject. Quatre seemed to understand this, for he stood from the railing and walked back into the main hall. Makoto hung her head, thinking she had chased him away, but he soon came back with a violin.

"Would you do me the honor of allowing me to play for you? I have been practicing for many years, but as of yet only my personal guards have ever had time to listen to me."

He sounded so mournful that Makoto would never have been able to say anything but "yes". And so he played for her. He played until it was nearly twelve, and she was enraptured the entire time. When he finished she clapped and laughed joyously.

"You're wonderful, Lord Quatre," she cried, "I've never heard anyone play as sweetly."

He blushed lightly and quickly turned the subject of attention back to her. "Do you like it here?"

"Yes. ... It feels like home," Makoto replied.

"Feels like?"

"I mean ... It is home. It has been for many years. But I was not born here."

"Oh? Where are you from?"

"Far away," she replied, trying to avoid the answer.

Internally she raged at herself for not having thought of a more ready answer. Trowa and Duo looked at each other across the length of the balcony opening, both confused. Quatre cupped the girl's cheek.

"Won't you please tell me?"

Then from far off, the twelve gongs sounded once again, interrupting them as it had the night before. Makoto pulled away from Quatre, looking about frantically. She backed up to the curtain, and Quatre knew that he would lose her again. He held out his hand to try and get her to stay, but she gave him a rueful smile.

"I am Aswad Naar ... your enemy," she whispered, and disappeared.

Quatre once again ran after her, but with half a heart. He stopped at the threshold of the balcony, watching as she disappeared into the crowd. Surely if she'd felt anything for him, she would have stayed. Then again, she was afraid, that he could tell. She was afraid that he would have her arrested or killed because she was from their greatest enemy's tribe. And her fears were not totally unreasonable, for often that had been the punishement if one of them were captured; but Quatre knew that he would never be able to hurt her. Aswad Naar or not, he loved her – enough to marry her with no regrets, at any rate.

"Lord Quatre!" shrieked the voice of Relena.

Quatre then realized, to his horror, that he was completely surrounded by would-be suitors. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Duo and Trowa slipped away from the confusion, and cursed them silently. Then he relented – he would have done the same were he in their place. And maybe ... they might well have been chasing that girl.

"Oh what a wonderful party this has been!" the blonde continued as loud as she could, "But your presence has been most missed. Pray, come and dance, enjoy yourself at your own party!"

And in a move that might have been punishable by death were he any other person, Relena grabbed Quatre's arm and all but dragged him into the hall to dance with her. She was not the last he danced with, either. Soon nearly all the girls were waiting to get in a dance with him, a dance that he did not want to have with any of them.

Duo and Trowa slid out of the crowded Great Hall easily in the confusion of women screeching to be danced with. Both looked at each other, nodding firmly – they were going to find that girl before she could get away. She basically had their approval to be Quatre's bride; they weren't letting her disappear on them and leave them with someone like Relena. The though alone caused the two boys to shudder a bit.

_But_, Duo smirked,_ if she is who I think she is, she's an even better choice politically_.

It was about damn time they made their peace with the Aswad Naar tribe. The two split up and took different hallways, hoping to cover more ground. There was only so far that the girl could have gotten on her own. Trowa headed in the direction of the entrance, Duo made his way to the servants quarters and kitchens.

"Makoto! You lazy trash! Get moving before I beat you again!" shouted Saia's voice, echoing down the hall.

With a start, Duo realized that the servant he and Trowa had seen that afternoon was this Makoto. She was the only one who had been beaten. He paused, waiting for her to answer, appear, or both.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry," said a tired voice.

A lithe figure appeared around a corner with a basket in one hand, heading on her way to the Great Hall – presumably to clean up. Duo moved aside so he didn't detain her and so he could get a good look at her. Her hair was veiled, as was most of her face, but the braided boy could see green eyes (which looked slightly red as if from crying), and a hint of gold across her forehead.

_The crown! Quatre's mother's crown!_ Duo crowed to himself. _I've got to tell Trowa – I was right!_

Only when he saw a bright gold flash was Quatre able to tear himself away from the crowds. A young girl with auburn hair piled into a messy pony tail, that was practically falling out of her veil, was collecting empty goblets to bring back to the kitchens. Excusing himself, Quatre followed her.

"Makoto! Hurry up! We must wash them before you can bring them back, and your laziness is not helping us! I'll not take responsibility for your actions!" shouted a passing servant: Saia, he realized.

"Yes, Saia."

Quatre watched the girl speed her steps and quickly, though gracefully, make her way to the kitchens. She moved almost gingerly, as if she was hurt somehow, the blonde king realized, frowning. What reason could she have given Saia to beat her? She seemed obedient enough, certainly. At the sink, the girl deposited the dirty goblets and grasped a tray of clean ones.

"No, Makoto," Saia said sharply, "Go clean the floors. They'll be needed clean for the guests to exit from."

"Yes ma'am."

Without another word, Makoto picked up a bucket of soapy water, and a rag. It was a slight turn to her left to walk out from the kitchens, but that was all Quatre needed to see his mother's crown still resting upon her head. She walked as hurridly as she could, while being careful not to spill the water, to the main entry hall. She hummed one of the tunes that Quatre himself had played for her not too long ago. Quatre grinned widely when he realized that, still following her. When she had scrubbed for five minutes or so, he walked loudly up behind her. From the other side of the room, Duo was dragging Trowa in. The young king wondered if Duo had known all along, or if he had just figured it out himself.

"Girl," Quatre said.

The servant girl stopped scrubbing and tensed, but did not turn around. "My Lord."

"Remove your veil, girl."

Hesitantly, silently, she obeyed. Her auburn hair spilled over her shoulders. Quatre smiled slightly."Turn around and face me." The girl obeyed, but she did not stand and kept her eyes on the floor. The king determined to change that, "Where are you from?"

Her eyes shot to his face before she could catch herself. She blushed, knowing she was caught, "... Far away, my Lord."

"Why did you not stay with the other guests?"

"I ... I like the stars, my Lord."

"Will you not stand, then? And tell me your name?" Quatre asked quietly, walking even closer.

Makoto, very slowly and apprehensively, stood and came face to face with her king. The very king who had defended her as a young boy when his father might have killed her. The same blue eyes that she so adored shone down upon her now, not in hatred or anger, but with love.

"I am Makoto, my Lord."

"And I am Quatre, not Lord, Makoto," the young blond whispered, closing the distance between them and claiming her lips in a kiss.


	6. Epilogue

**Begun:** A long time ago.  
**Ended:** A long time ago. This is just a rewrite.

**Disclaimer:** I hold no claim of Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon or Shin Kidou Senki Gundam W. If I did the series' would have turned out far differently.  
**Warnings:** This is the AU to end all AUs. Except not really. It is AU for both series, however, as it takes place in a fairy-tale desert setting. Beware badly romanticized ancient Arabic tribal culture, worse names (I attempted to find actual Arabic names, but who knows how well that worked out), and lots of not-so-subtle shounen-ai hinting.

* * *

Later that evening, after Makoto had had the pleasure of being able to tell Saia to kindly fuck off and leave her alone on pain of being fired and left to rot, the king and his fiancee laid in his bed. Not really touching, but their bodies were close enough that they could feel the other's body heat. Makoto rested her head on her arms and looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"My lord?"

"I told you, Makoto – it's Quatre."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I'm just so used to ... It will take me a while to remember."

"It's all right, love. What is it?"

"At the balls, I saw two people ... I don't even remember their names, but I'm sure they were from my home ... I'm sure I knew them before the rebel attack."

"Oh?"

"Yes. They were slaves, though, to a funny-looking blond lady."

"The lady Relena?"

"I'm not sure of her name. She had a strikingly odd hair-style, though," Makoto murmured, trying to remember, "And she was quite loud ... to the point of screeching instead of speaking." She ignored the snickering of Duo and Quatre, and she knew that Trowa must be smirking, "So I take it that it must be her. ... But ... Could I ask this one thing of you?"

"What is it?" Quatre asked, rolling onto his side and propping himself up.

Makoto looked into his eyes, "Will you buy them from her? As my personal handmaids or something? I can't bare to think of them stuck for the rest of their lives with her."

"Will it piss off Relena?" the king asked looking over his bride's body to see their other two lovers.

Duo had his hand loosely tangled in Makoto's hair, and Trowa had his arm wrapped around the braided boy's waist. Maybe soon, Quatre thought, he and Makoto would feel comfortable enough to touch each other the way they did. Trowa and Duo both nodded sagely in answer of the blonde's question. Quatre grinned down, an evil grin that Makoto never would have thought she would see on his kind face. She had to admit that she rather liked it.

"Then it will be done."

* * *

Quatre made the announcement the next morning: "I have found my bride. We wish to be married within the month. Spare no expenses for it, we have more than enough money stored within the palace. I want lillies brought in from the country closest to us who may have them."

"Lord Quatre!" the old men gasped collectively, "But that country is the country of the Aswad Naar!"

"I know," the young blond said solemnly, "I wish a peace treaty drawn up with the leader of their country, as quickly as possible. Ask for an alliance with them, if they will have us, and bring them both a gift of arms and gold ... and news."

"News, Lord Quatre?"

"Yes. Tell them that their princess who was lost many years ago is safe and resting within our halls. Should they wish to see her, it will be arranged without hesitation upon her consent to go back."

Standing in the shadows of the throne, Makoto fought to keep herself from laughing. It didn't really help to have her friends, and now Maids of Honor, Hotaru and Michiru standing behind her. When she had told Quatre about them, he'd immediately bought them from Relena and given them a new home in the palace where they would never be mistreated again. At first he was going to set them free, but they had asked to be allowed to stay with Makoto, and by their own choice they were her personal attendants.

"Y – yes, Lord Quatre. It shall be done," said the youngest of the advisors, "But will you not tell us who your bride is that would cause you make these decisions?"

"Never mind that," hissed another to him, then said in a louder voice, "Where is this princess of theirs? Why have we never seen her?"

Quatre chuckled. "You have seen her, she was but a baby when she was brought here. Father wanted to leave her in the dungeons, but I pleaded with him to allow her to live as one of our servants. Even I did not know who she was at that time," he turned, "Makoto? Please enter."

Makoto glanced back at her friends, who gave her smiles of reassurance, and took a deep breath. Gathering all her courage, she stepped as lightly and gracefully as she could into the throne room.

"May I present to you, Makoto: princess of the Aswad Naar, and my chosen bride."

The advisors did the one thing they could think of. They fainted.

"Oh dear ... perhaps that was too much of a shock for them," Quatre murmured guiltily.

Makoto laughed happily and walked to him, throwing her arms around his neck and sitting on the arm of this throne. Michiru and Hotaru giggled softly behind them. Duo threaded Makoto's hair through his fingers affectionately, his other hand twined in Trowa's.

"No, they needed their perspectives changed, Quatre. This will be a good time for them to start," Makoto said softly.

The mischievous smile on her lips belied her serious words, however, and Quatre laughed. He kissed her quickly, then turned to bestow the same treatment on his bodyguards.

"Imagine how they'll take it when they realize there's four of us," Duo muttered.


End file.
